I Hope I Never Get Better
by blackveins
Summary: Something called the "mutie-chill" has been going around, and has infected the X-mansion. This genetically engineered illness removes a mutants powers for about a month. A lot of things can happen in a month when no one can protect themselves.
1. Mutiechill

Kurt woke up in a pool of saliva. He had fallen asleep with his mouth open thanks to the congestion that prevented him from breathing through his nose. He coughed and sputtered, trying to wipe away the slime before his companion noticed. He looked up to be sure that his current roommate wasn't paying attention.

As per usual, Logan was sitting silently in his chair. A cup of coffee in one hand, the daily paper obscuring his face with the other. "Morning princess. Don't forget to put that pillowcase in the wash." Logan growled sarcastically. Kurt's drool sodden pillow had been more than noted. Quietly, and without looking at the figure in the chair, Kurt stripped the pillow and fumbled with a new case from the stack on his night stand. A number of them had been left there for him, as drooling in his sleep had been far to regular with his current state of health.

Kurt had contracted the mutie-chill. The most recent biological attack by anti-mutant activists. The disease was supposed to forcibly silence the mutant gene and it's after effects, which it had done admirably in the first few mutants that had contracted it. However, after only a few times of being transmitted, the mutant gene had proven stronger than the disease and warped it into nothing more than a temporary power suppressing cold. A very bad and contagious cold at that.

The cold initially spread through the mutant population like wild fire, and had only recently been largely eradicated from the X-mansion. Kurt was the last mutant for miles with strong symptoms, and Logan was stuck with his healing factor still compromised from his recent contraction. As most of Logan's duties around the mansion were based around him being able to heal instantly, this limited what he could do at present.

For the past four days Logan had lived in the chair across from Kurt's bed drinking and reading. In the morning it was coffee and the paper, in the evening it was beer and an old book. Logan was never much of a talker, and Kurt hadn't felt like saying much since he got sick. Knowing that he can't disappear with a thought was more intimidating than it seemed like it should have been. Being annoying, silly, crazy, and loud was much more fun with an instant escape route.

Kurt curled around his pillow, letting his misery swarm around him. Of all the things this cold could have done, it took only his teleportation. Though, it hadn't changed his looks in the slightest. Same old fuzzy blue freak. Not to mention his holo-watch had been damaged in a mission three weeks ago when a mutant that controlled water blasted him with a jet stream. Professor X hadn't had a chance to make a new one, and even now was out on a mission with the other X-men. Far to busy to think about mending watches. Kurt and Logan were the only mutants in the mansion for probably the next week.

Even the new recruits had been taken out for training exercises in the woods with Beast. The professor had decided there would be less contaigents in the deep outback, and the last thing he needed was another round of sick X-men. This was going to be the most boring week ever. Kurt let out a quiet heavy sigh into his pillow. "Ya'll right there, bub?" Logan growled, turning the page in his newspaper. Kurt waited through the long pause that followed for Logan to say something else... but he didn't.

"'M fine." Kurt mumbled into his pillow, burying his face ever deeper in its softness. "Y'ur really going to bother lying." Logan grunted in amusement. It wasn't really a question, but a statement that asked for an answer. Tears welled up in Kurt's eyes. Of course he wasn't fine. He had been locked in a room with captain statue for days, with nothing to do except be sick and think. Kurt had already done all the thinking he could do, and now just wanted to scream.

Kurt knew it was his turn to talk, and Logan would wait for him. Logan would wait for hours for Kurt to figure out his thoughts and finally say something. He had done that very thing the days before, that day six hours had passed before Kurt broke the silence. Anything that happened today would happen on Kurt's terms and he knew it. "'M not fine." Kurt whimpered softly into the pillow. If he had been talking to anyone else, they would have heard nothing but another groan. But he wasn't talking to anyone else, and there's a good chance Logan would have heard that mumble if it had come from the next room over.


	2. I'm Not Ok

Logan folded his paper in his lap. "'Ats a step t'ward honesty." He said, he was nicer this time. Kurt peeked up with one eye and looked at Logan's stony face. He wasn't smiling, but somehow Kurt knew he was on the inside. Maybe it was the past four days together, but Kurt was getting better at hearing Logan's silent words. Like right now he could feel Logan silently asking "Hey, whats going on? You can talk to me." in a calm voice... While his face said a firm "You think YOU'VE got problems?!"... but Logan was only looking at him, otherwise expressionless.

They stared at each other for a long moment, as Logan waited for Kurt's next words. "I just hate this..." Kurt whispered, looking back into his pillow to cover the tears that were welling up again. Logan waited patiently to see if Kurt wanted to continue that thought, but he didn't. "Bee'n sick?" He asked, looking almost surprised. Like sickness couldn't possibly make someone so sad. He was right. Sickness couldn't make someone this sad... but thinking for four days could.

Thinking about the mother that had abandoned him, the circus that had eventually cast him out, the church rafters he had been evicted from... Everyone else seemed to think that being at a new school for a couple of years would make his nightmare of a life suddenly evaporate like it had never happened. Like he would be born anew the moment he set foot on X-man property. It didn't work that way. He knew that, and Logan knew that. They hadn't mentioned it, but both of them knew what it was like to truly hurt.

"No." Kurt stated into his pillow. The pillow was starting to get wet around his eyes, Kurt hadn't even realized he was crying. "'Z'it 'bout that Pride girl?" Logan grunted, beginning to pick his paper up again. Kurt's eye's shot open and he lifted his face up just high enough to stare at Logan, trying to cover his purple cheeks with his hair. He hated being blue, whenever he blushed people thought he was sick or choking. "How do you know about zat?" Kurt asked, shocked. He hadn't told ANYONE about his crush on Kitty.

"Other than watching ya stare at her for the whole damn year? Or when you cried in yer room for two days when she hooked up with Lance?" Logan grumbled. He sounded irritable, but it meant a lot to Kurt that anyone had noticed. It was horribly embarrassing, but he was noticed. Logan gave him a wicked grin that left feeling slightly uneasy. "Not ta mention you should hide that diary a' yers better bub." With that Logan flicked his paper up again to cover his evil smile.

"You read mien diary!" Kurt shouted in his heavy German accent. It was actually only normal volume, but after days of overwhelming silence he felt like he had screamed it. Logan chuckled, "Under yer mattress isn't much of a hiddin' spot." Logan's voice sounded harsh, but was laughing with actual joy. Not mocking him, or making fun... he had probably just felt as bored as Kurt did. Kurt pulled his chin up firmly and sat up straight, distracted from his mourning. "And... and es not a diary. Ets a journal." Kurt said, attempting to retain some dignity.

Logan ignored this statement and instead responded with "Not much of a fan of the stuff.. But ya got some nice poetry in there, kid." Logan growled the compliment. Kurt was glad the paper was in front of Logan's face, because he was turning indigo. "Danke." He muttered, looking down to where the journal hid as though he could see it through the mattress. Logan read his journal? Kurt's face burned at the thought of someone seeing the innermost parts of his heart like that... and without him even knowing!

Logan folded the top portion of his newspaper down and locked eyes with Kurt in a soul piercing gaze. "Ya want a better hide'n spot?" Logan growled mischievously, giving Kurt a quick wink. Kurt swallowed and tried to ignore the pending fear of what Logan would do next. He was blue, and furry, and Logan had spent much more time staring at him today than he usually did. Kurt nodded slowly, his eyes wide, now feeling very self conscious. Logan rose out of his chair and stepped toward Kurt, turning momentarily to set down his coffee and newspaper.

In seconds he was at Kurt's bedside, standing on the side of the bed that had the journal under it. They hadn't been this close.. ever really. Most people stayed an arms length from Kurt, and EVERYONE stayed an arm and claws reach away from Logan. Kurt jumped in surprise, inhaling Logan's scent. Even though Logan had taken a shower that morning, Kurt felt like he was breathing in a century of war, blood, and forests... It was a scent that suddenly made Kurt hunger for adventure, to simply run headlong into the open arms of the world... It was the scent of fearlessness.

This was the first taste of fearlessness Kurt had ever known, and it made every strand of hair on his entire body stand on end. He breathed in again slowly and deeply, letting the scent linger in his lungs. it was better the second time. It was hard to breath quietly with his sinuses, and the fact that he could smell anything at all let him know how strong Logan's natural smell usually was. How much Kurt wished he could smell properly at that moment...

Logan leaned back with the journal in his hand, giving Kurt a soft smile. Logan's eyebrows raised when he saw how puffy Kurt's furry friend had become. Without really thinking about it Logan ruffled the kids hair, slightly surprised at its softness. The blue boy leaned into his hand like a friendly cat against someone who had just scratched their ear. In a second Logan realized that... this boy... no, that Kurt was completely starved for any kind of affection.


	3. The Journal

He had noticed it in the boys diary, no one ever touched him with out his holo-watch... and usually not even with it. When Logan had read the diary, he hadn't been intending on prying... but he was so bored! Every day he would sit and read, but at night he grew restless. Logan slept for maybe three hours a day, and that was broken into half hour naps, so at night he would exercise, pace, and apparently stumble across the kids diary. The first time it had just been poking out from under the mattress slightly, and he had put it back as soon as he had figured out what it was.

Then his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Logan had snuck the journal out a number of times and had completely read it at least twice. Logan feigned a hatred for poetry, but in all honesty he loved every word the boy had written. It told tails of being outcast, unwanted, heartbroken, forgotten... it was beautiful... it was everything he felt put to words. His hand lingered on the boys cheek as he recalled a particular page about a girl that had moved in to kiss him on the cheek at school, only to scream and never speak to him again when her lips met fur. The girls memory of the moment had been wiped, but Kurt's hadn't.

Finally Logan pulled his hand away and knelt by his bedside, pulling up the edge of the fitted sheet, exposing the mattress. Kurt fought the urge to put his hand to his cheek where the man's had been, the white hot memory of the warm fingers burning his skin like a beautiful fire. Kurt never wanted the feeling to fade. Logan was looking at the mattress now like nothing had happened, and said gruffly as he pointed at a seam "Here's good."

With that, he slid the tip of one of his claws out, and sliced the mattress open. The gash was about as long as the book was wide, and Logan carefully slid the precious book inside. He pulled the fitted sheet down, and it was like the book had never existed. Almost involuntarily Kurt's three fingered hand reached out to touch Logan's, just as he stood and pulled it away. Craving the feeling of human skin one more time before it slipped back out of grasp, there was no telling when someone would be this close to him again.

Wolverine's hand moved to quickly, but hesitated when he saw Kurt's slightly raised hand out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, and moved back slightly, letting Kurt have the opportunity he craved. Kurt took Logan's hand and looked carefully at it, examining his knuckles with thorough intent. He pointed one thick finger at the bleeding knife wound between Logan's first and second knuckle where Logan's claw had sliced through his skin to open the mattress."But it won't heal?" Kurt asked simply, looking up at Logan with worried eyes.

It was true. Logan had just gotten over the power impairing disease, and his healing factor was still down for the count. For a long moment both of them stared at the still bleeding cut on Logan's hand, as it began trying to clot. A thing Logan's body had not done in a very long time. After careful consideration of all of the reactions he could have, Logan finally chose a quote from one of his more favorite poems from Kurt's book. "Some things are more important." He said, for once a growl not hanging on his words.

Disappear into the sky's, God watching on.

A little boy cries, his food was now gone.

T'was stolen by a brute, stronger and better.

A little boy roots through the garbage for dinner.

From the heavens comes a creature of dread.

His past hellish and sordid.

He gives the boy his last bit of bread.

Saying, "Some things are more important..."

That was all Logan could remember of a much longer poem. He knew that phrase in the story had carried a sort of secret meaning. It meant that the giver was willing to give everything... the last bit of what they had... And that the receiver would never know what had been done for them to be provided for that day. Later in that story, Kurt had ended up catching himself a sewer rat, and cooking it over a hobo's trashcan fire after giving the other child the bread that had been given to him by the church priest.

"Some things are more important." Was written on the outside of the diary, in beautiful swirling penmanship. More than ten of the enclosed stories revolving around that thought. It was the thought Kurt lived his life by. Give until you have nothing to give, then give a little bit more... but never let them know what it took. Logan smiled as he thought to himself "This boy would slice his own arm open to let a thirsty man drink his blood as sustenance."

After reading the book, Logan was in awe of the heart Kurt had for other people. It was one of the only reasons he was so patient with the kid. The boy had been abused and rejected every moment of his life, and still wanted to give the shirt off his own back to keep another freezing person warm. Telling them his fur was plenty cozy. That was another story in the book. Kurt even noted that his fur cant keep him warm against a light breeze, let alone the snow that had come that winter. Kurt had almost frozen to death in a basement for that one.

Absently Logan found himself stroking Kurt's hair as he mulled on this thought. The hair on his head was as soft as the fur on his cheek, only longer. Snapping back to awareness Logan went to pull his hand away, but stopped at the tears that welled up in Kurt's eyes as he did. The professor had recently helped him unlock a handful of childhood memories, and even back then Logan was never a touchy person. As a child he had fought his mother on hugs, and any boy that did so much as pat him on the back got a fist to the face. That time felt like a thousand years ago, and no one had touched him since. It felt strange to be wanted so badly by someone.

After a long pause for thought and against his better judgement, Logan sat on the edge on the bed and gestured for the blue boy to move closer to him. He may be a hard-ass mother-fucker... but after reading that book, he would be a heartless bastard to leave this child without a shoulder to lean on. Though, as he thought about it, Kurt wasn't exactly a child. He was in fact 19, and was taking high-school only because he had never had the opportunity to before hand. Logan dismissed that thought. It was better to think of the boy as a child.

Kurt tentatively pushed himself toward Logan, finally leaning against his chest. Logan wrapped his arms around Kurt, and felt his shoulders shaking as he began to cry. Logan knew from his reading that Kurt had never been held like this by someone in his life. Kurt was now fully sobbing in his arms, and Logan ignored that he was probably getting sickness slime all over one of his better shirts. Sick, miserable, and never felt a caring hand touch his skin... it would be cruelty to leave him alone right now. It was no wonder the boy regularly cried in his sleep.

Logan had also never felt anyone this close and it was strange... It was nice. He began petting Kurt's back with one hand as he held him close, being sure to travel with the fur. He wasn't sure where comforting words were coming from in him, but they came. "... Its gonna be ok now... I got you." Logan mumbled, grimacing at the strange feel of the words, comfort not one of his natural talents. It worked though, and soon Kurt's sobbing was back to lightly shaking shoulders.

Finally, what may have been an hour later for all he knew, Kurt pulled back to blow his nose. Once his sinuses were clear he curled his knees to his chest, like he expected Logan to treat his crying as an offense. The opposite was true, and Logan put his arm around the boy as a father would a son. In Logan's arms he felt so safe like there was nothing to be afraid of ever again. For another long while they sat together, watching the winter drift by through the fogged up window.


	4. Save Me From Myself

Eventually Logan got restless and Kurt got sleepy, he as still sick after all. Logan didn't notice how tired Kurt was until the blue boy was asleep against his chest. Logan carefully wrapped his arms around Kurt and turned to lay him down on the bed. "...Logan?" Kurt groaned in a soft and sweet voice. Logan froze, trying to figure out the meaning of the call, and on further examination found Kurt to be in a very deep sleep. It made him tingle a little to hear his name said that way, so sad... like the boy was worried of abandonment even in slumber. He smoothed the hair out of Kurt's eyes smiled slightly.

Logan had always thought of Kurt as a small defenseless child that teleported away at the slightest sound of trouble. But one look at the boy told him that even now in the deep throws of sickness that Kurt could drop to the ground and give him fifty push-ups if necessary. Watching the boys labored breathing sent a pang of heartache through his chest. All the training in the world was nothing compared to a virus.

Logan had a hard time watching others feel pain. He knew it would never be possible for someone to understand the pain he felt, but he could empathize for theirs. Jean was psychic, but still couldn't grasp how it felt to fall inches from the brink of death... multiple times. On the orders of someone who "cares" about your well-being. The professor heard his thoughts every time, but still put him in every single kamakazi situation that came up.

"Oh look, a situation that will maim, stab, explode, crash, burn and otherwise mutilate you?... Wolverines on it!" Logan thought to himself in a mocking version of the professors voice. But when he thought about the look on Kurt's face when the boy thought he might not heal instantly... Logan looked at his hand and thought about those huge yellow eyes staring at him in concern. He had stripes of scabbing between its knuckles, right now was the only time he could easily die...

"I'll always keep you safe." Logan whispered under his breath to the sleeping kid. It was the first time in as long as he could remember someone was this worried about him. He would never forget that. Finally Logan went about doing some general exercises... which turned into a full workout... which fueled an intense and rigorousness routine. The hardest workout he had done since he had come down with the mutie-chill. Hours later Logan was completely absorbed in doing another fifty push-ups, having pulled his shirt off long ago when it got to sweaty to be comfortable.

"36... 37... 38... 39...-" Logan was counting out to himself then he looked up and saw the blue boy... Kurt... watching him intently, having flipped over so that he was on his belly on top of his blankets with his feet on his pillow to get a better view. Neither of them said anything... but Kurt was obviously curious, and Logan wanted to show that blue boy what real muscle could do. The reason Kurt stayed in training classes. "40... 41... 42..." There was a thick sheen of sweat on his face. "43... 44... 45..." Kurt had his chin propped on his hands, his eyes wide in astonishment.

"46... 47... 48..." For the last few Logan closed his eyes tight, letting every last drop of energy he has go to his muscles. "49...50." At fifty he didn't collapse, or pant... He pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps toward the waiting boy on the bed, sweaty and slimy after only 50 push ups... well, and the 50 sit ups, 20 chin ups from the door frame, and an hour of jogging in place. As he approached the bed Kurt pushed himself into a sitting position, cocking his head to the side in wonder.

"Do you know why I work out?" He growled, he wanted the kid to remember the purpose of his gym lessons. Kurt looked ever more confused "To get ze ladies?" he asked. The remark left Logan laughing uproariously... Inwardly. Outwardly, he held the same fierce glare. "No, to save punks like you when ya get yerself in stupid situations."

Kurt gave him a glowing and amazed smile. A smile of admiration? Logan tilted his head. It occurred to him that Kurt had never had a father figure before. The small bit of adoration now would be nothing compared to what could happen if Kurt took him as a roll model. Logan stared into space for a minute and pictured the blue boy in a stained tank top, tight jeans, and a leather jacket sporting the typical wolverine haircut. The thought almost made him smile... until a beer and a cigar was added to the picture. Then A wolfish grin spread across his face, and an interesting idea sprung to mind.


	5. I Love You

Curiosity got the better of him and Logan asked with a sly smile, "Ya wanna try a beer kid?" It was as though fireworks had gone off in the boys eyes. "You mean like you do, ja?!" Logan chuckled and ruffled the blue boys hair. "Sure kid. We can drink 'm on the roof. Charles gone an all, it'll be fun." The idea seemed to throw Kurt out of bed, and he barely managed to grab his box of tissues on the way out the door.

"Last one der ist a rotten egg!" Kurt shouted as he raced past Logan. Logan walked slowly out of the room, to the kitchen, and grabbed a pack of beer. Kurt had run out of the room first, but had no idea how they were getting on the roof, so he bounced excitedly by the door. "Get sumthin on kid. You'll freeze to death in that gauze you got on now."Logan gestured at the silky pajama's Kurt wore.

Kurt bolted to his closet and managed to find an almost identical match to the one Logan had pictured. The tank top was torn and resewn in the back to fit around Kurt's tail, but remained unstained. The jeans were baggier to properly fit the odd structure of Kurt's ankles. The jacket was black, but not made of leather. It was a fairly well done mimicry for having been done in less than five minutes. The boy had even put on an old silver cross necklace instead of dog tags.

Logan let have his mouth curl up in a smile. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a kid. Right at this minute, he couldn't recall why he had decided against it. At Logan's pace they strode to the side of the building where railroad spikes had sprung out of the wall one day. The professor knew Logan had put them there, but they were far enough out of normal eyesight that they had been left there. The bottom ten or so were tucked so far into the ivy at the base of the building that Logan found them mostly by memory.

Logan uncovered the first few for Kurt, and stood back so the boy could climb up first. He wanted to be there in case the sick kid fell. When Kurt was halfway up the wall Logan scaled after him. The building was about six stories tall, so getting to the roof took quite a bit of effort. Finally Kurt flopped onto a flatter portion of the roof breathing heavily. Logan gritted his teeth to keep from doing the same. That workout had been a long one.

After a minute Logan pulled two cold beers from the pack and tossed one to the blue boy. Kurt caught it easily and popped it open with the spade on his tail. Wolverine slid a claw under his,and popped it open as well. For an hour or two real life slipped away. A beer, a friend. Nothing more.

Wolverine reflected on one of the boys poems, it seemed to etch its self on the inside of his skull. He couldn't explain it, but it was at though the boy had written it to him. The secret that he had written the poem down and kept it folded in his wallet would die with him.

Show me memory how you hate me

Repeating endlessly

Take my hand and cut my skin

Burn my blood and forge my sin

Father let me know how forgotten I am

Mother let me know how hated my skin

Blue is my curse, existence my great transgression

Fur my deepest love and love my hardest lesson

How can I love who I am... when it is why you hate

How to love what, when rejection my fate

For only me, mother nature shuns her laws

Hate rages inward as my own blood falls from these claws

I call these... my flaws

Logan planned to get one of the line's tattooed on his chest in backwards lettering so that he could read it every morning. Or at least for the month before his skin finally pushed the last bit of ink out of his pores. Tattoos were less permanent on his skin than most. He was planning to get either "Take my hand and cut my skin. Burn my blood and forge my sin." or "Blood falls from these claws. I call these... My flaws."... but he wasn't sure yet. Maybe one this month and the other next-

Logan's thoughts were interrupted in the stillness. "I love you." Whispered Kurt. That caught Logan off guard... Love?


	6. Evil Angel

Logan stared at his newspaper unblinking, the words echoing in his head. "I love you." Had been whispered by a boy on a rooftop next to him the night before. He wasn't sure what had happened last night, but until those three words were said, love hadn't been anywhere in his mind. Friendship, possibly. Mutual tolerance, certainly. Love?...He hadn't thought about loving someone id decades. but something about the love starved boy made him wish he knew how to be a father better.

Who was he trying to fool, he was no father figure. Especially not to an impressionable child he hardly knew. Logan turned the page in his paper, having done nothing more than look and the words. Unable to read them. Kurt was face down on his disheveled bed, snoring loudly. The boy had actually gotten slightly drunk off of three beers. Having thrown off human contact of any kind for so long, Logan didn't even know if he was capable of love. Fatherly, or any other kind. Logan rose to make himself a new cup of coffee, turning to see the edge of Kurt's mouth flicker upward as he played in his dream land.

A dream land Logan would never see again. Logan had stopped sleeping years ago when haunting memories ate away what little he had called his sanity. He had killed more men than he could imagine, their blood staining his hands a permanent crimson. No one else could see these stains, but he could feel them... ever present. He couldn't lead this kid on, thinking he had found the parent he had been deprived of. Regardless of any other questions that could be taken into account, this had to end.

How to do it though? He couldn't walk back into that room and tell the kid he didn't want him around anymore. After reading the blood spilled out on the pages of that diary, he couldn't be the one to destroy this kids chance of happiness. Happiness didn't seem to visit Kurt's door often. Maybe he could find another interest for the boy, distract him somehow. Logan silently cursed himself. No hobby was going to make the kid stop wanting a dad. Like a horse with a broken leg, this to would need put down properly.

Logan returned to the room with his coffee renewed to find Kurt curled up on the windowsill sobbing. Logan simply stood in the doorway silently, staring. Kurt chocked back his tears as soon as he heard Logan. Looking out the window to cover the tears Logan could smell in the air he quietly said "You don't love me do you." Logan didn't respond, he only stood in the doorway wishing he had the right words. The right words to sooth the boy, the right words to make him want someone else... The right words to make someone love Kurt in return.

"I knew it." Gurgled Kurt, his eyes locked on the spanning treeline out the window. "I KNEW IT!" Shrieked Kurt suddenly, spinning about to throw the nearest object at Wolverine. It was a lamp, and Logan caught it. Kurt leapt to his feet and grabbed another object and his aim was between Logan's eyes. Logan was glad for his heightened reflexes, catching the water glass that had been by Kurt's lamp and dropping it on the ground with a solid thudding sound. The coffee in his other hand still had not spilled a drop.

Wolverine could smell the adrenaline burning in the air, sizzling like a grease fire. Kurt's eyes flew open wide. "You hate me..." He breathed. The tears began anew and flooded into his silken fur. The dart of Kurt's eyes alerted Logan to the plot that swam through his mind before he could take action. Logan was moving in leaps and bounds, half way across the room by the time Kurt had gotten his thick fingers on the windows lock. Logan was still three feet from Kurt when his coffee mug smashed on the floor in the background, but Kurt had gotten the lock open.

As Logan reached the window his fingertips only brushed the edges of Kurt's night cloths as the boy threw himself from the window. They were on the fifth floor of the mansion, and without the ability to teleport, Kurt's life would be ended in the time it took to fall the following four stories. Without hesitation Wolverine pounced out the window like his namesake lunging at its pray, he needed to get under Kurt's body before the four stories ended.


	7. Faltering Flight

Somehow he managed it. He had flung out the window, grabbed Kurt and maneuvered so that he was below the boy. They were passing the third floor. As though it were in slow motion Logan waited until they had passed the second story window, and at the first story window, he pushed. Throwing Kurt upward and to the side, throwing himself downward and into the ground. Kurt let out a scream as his momentum came to a halt before he hit the ground, and he landed on the grass two feet from his mark unharmed.

Logan was not so fortunate. He hit the ground like his bones were made of metal... which they were. The breath was thrust out of him and at least two of his metal bones had popped out of socket. If his healing factor had not been compromised by his most recent bout of illness, then he would have walked away like he had never fallen. Without it, his back would be covered in purple and black bruises within minutes where his skin had been smashed between his metal bones and the ground.

With a gasp and a few breaths that he fought hard for, Logan rolled onto his side to see that Kurt was alright. The boy was sobbing, slamming his fists against the ground. Kurt let out an agonizing scream at the grass, spittle flying from his fangs. The scream winded him and Kurt stay facing the ground, panting and crying. A single piercing tear struck the edge of Logan's eye... he had caused this. This pain was his fault.

Kurt rose to his feet shakily and began stumbling toward the woods, coughing and sobbing. He was still weak from sickness. Wolverine moved to reach out and gasped at the pain that ripped through his body. He had recovered from bullets faster than this! Furious at his own body Logan fought to stand, but his right shoulder and left knee had been thrown out of place, and were not righting themselves as they usually did. He could not move.

*CHARLES!* Logan screamed out in his mind, thinking as hard as he could of the professor. Again and again he let the name echo out into the darkness of thought. Soon the professor was responding. *Yes? What is it Logan?* His calm but urgent voice rung out from nowhere. Logan let the images he wanted the professor to see flood through his mind. Pages of sorrow and depression from the diary turned themselves in his mind. Then how upset Kurt had been at learning of Logan's invasion of his privacy.

The screaming rage Kurt went into that lead to him leaping from the window, and finally the image of Kurt stumbling into the woods. It got the point across. Kurt was sick, emotional, and stumbling into the forest without his powers or a way to conceal his fur. Logan knew the professor had already had the team he was with turn to fly home immediately, but he was probing Logan's mind for more information. Logan blocked out the thoughts of his and Kurt's night together.

*Logan... Is there something your not telling me?* The professor asked. Logan thought about his potential answers and finally let his mind growl out *Yes.* The professor seemed to think about this. *Will you tell me?* He asked, probing Logan's mind for more answers. *No.* Logan growled out. The professor hesitated. Logan knew that Professor X could have cracked open his mind at any second and stolen away his memories... but thankfully, he didn't.

Logan let out a sigh of relief as the professor withdrew slightly and said *We're on our way.* Logan knew they had been on their way for some time, but it was still a relief to hear confirmation. Help was on its way. With that, Logan relaxed into the pain that felt like it was eating him alive. He he had a healing factor that could heal this in a seconds... but right now it wasn't, and without the burning adrenaline he needed Wolverine was having a hard time holding on to consciousness.

Now that he thought more about it, his healing factor must have played some roll in pain relieving as well. He had taken twenty bullets to the chest and felt less pain than he did right now. Wolverine let unconsciousness take him into oblivion. He would not wake until three weeks later, when the morphine he was on was counteracted by his healing factor taking control again. He would not know until the day he awoke that he had barely clung to life after a number of his vital organs had been punctured by his metal bones when he hit the ground. Normal bodies were not designed to be lined with metal.

Nor would Wolverine know that the X-men had not found Kurt, and eventually had given up. Assuming that Kurt had temporarily regained teleportation, and could quite literally be anywhere. The professor decided that Kurt would need to come back of his own volition. What the professor would not know until Logan awoke is that it had been substantially more than the reading of a diary that had driven Kurt away. Our story now turns to Kurt stumbling through the woods, a broken Wolverine disappearing behind him as the treeline obscured the even the towering mansion from view.

Kurt stumbled on, his vision blurry with tears. He shouted and cursed, sometimes muttering to himself for what felt like hours. Kurt didn't really know how long he had been walking. He had walked the distance to the school, and stumbled beyond. Around the town and on to the desolate and abandoned section of the city. Continuing deep into the trees in a zigzag manor he eventually got tired. He had walked from mid day and into the night, and it was now about two hours from sunrise.


	8. Refuge

If he ran, he could make it back to the mansion in time for breakfast... but he didn't want to do that. Kurt ignored the growl in his stomach, and plodded on. Taken slightly aback when a rundown house stood before him. With a couple summers of tender care the house could be quite a stately building... but it looked as though it had been neglected for decades. Without the thin tendril of smoke seeping out a basement window, Kurt would have thought the place abandoned.

Cautiously he approached the building, ready to leap into a tree at the slightest danger. His congested sinuses making it impossible to smell anything other than smoke. If his sense of smell had been working he may have even been able to smell the current residents of the house, as they probably did not keep themselves any cleaner than their house. Clouds were forming above him and it looked as though it were going to rain. Kurt silently hoped the inhabitants were friendly. Kurt made it to one of the ground level basement windows next to the window with the smoke.

Quietly he smudged some of the caked dirt off of the window with his pajama sleeve and peered inside. What he saw inside was less than shocking. It was Toad, tending to something roasting over a small fire. There was a plastic sheet twisted and taped to the window above the fire encouraging the smoke to flow out the open window. Kurt found that to be a rather clever set up given the situation.

Kurt had never been friends with the Brotherhood... but they had many times over tried to convince him to join their ranks. As he was currently avoiding the mansion, this place seemed as good as any to try to find shelter. After much deliberation, Kurt tapped on the window. Toad leapt back, almost dropping the thing he was roasting and stared at the window in wonder. "Kurt?" He whispered in a low worried voice.

Kurt waved slowly with a shaky smile, hoping that Toad would not take it upon himself to attack. Kurt was not prepared for a fight, and knew he would be forced to surrender immediately. Toad rushed to the window, glancing over his shoulder in panic at the stare way that reached to the rest of the house. Toad snapped the window open and beckoned Kurt inside. "Get in here before they see you!" He said in a hushed tone.

Kurt clambered in the basement through the small window, having expected Toad to let him in the front door if he was welcome. "Vot? Before who sees me?" His German accent evident. Toad didn't answer but only tugged and pulled at the boys pajama's, trying to get Kurt's hips through the window without causing harm to his tail. Kurt finally fell through and landed on top of Toad. Kurt pushed himself off rapidly, worried that he had crushed the other boy. Toad had a frame much smaller than Kurt's, and he did not like the idea of crushing the one that seemed to be helping him.

Toad leapt off the ground, and shut the window as quickly and quietly as he could manage. Then he turned back to Kurt. "They didn't see you did they? Do they know your here?" He whispered urgently, demanding Kurt's attention. "Vas? nien... No, I've not been seen." Kurt stammered, loosing his thoughts to the huge Green eyes inches away from his face. He didn't know who would have seen him, or who shouldn't have... but he hadn't seen anyone at all since he had wandered out of town.


	9. The Stairs

"Good." Toad flopped down next to the blue elf. The two sat quietly for a while until Toad finally said "Would you like something to eat? I haven't got much... but its better than starving." Kurt nodded, knowing that soon it would have been a full day since he had last eaten. He could go much longer without sustenance, but it wasn't desirable. "Sure, I guess... Don't you vant to know why I'm here?" Kurt says looking down at his feet.

He noticed for the first time that his feet were bleeding and moved to tuck them under himself. He had walked for so long he had nearly stripped the soles off of his feet. That would take time to heal. Toad looked at him, a deep sorrow lurking in the backs of his eyes. "If it was bad enough to make ya come here, figure its bad enough ya don't wanna talk about it." Toad said, looking down half way through the sentence. Toad was right... No... What was the boys real name again? Started with a T... Todd. Toads real name was Todd.

Kurt turned a little purple and looked down. Half for forgetting Todd's name, half because what he said was completely true. He shut his eyes and leaned back on his palms and let out a sigh, grateful for the other boys courtesy. No one in the X-mansion would have let him live without telling every painful detail. "Thanks." He muttered, not opening his eyes. Todd set something in his lap, and Kurt looked down in confusion. It was almost like a sandwich.

The bread was hard and obviously stale, the meat was roasted but didn't look like any animal meat he had seen before, and the leaves that imitated lettuce were well beyond wilted. Todd gave him a humiliated half smile, and took a bite of a matching sandwich. "I uh... I..." Kurt couldn't think of a way to decline without openly saying 'this is disgusting"... but nothing came to mind. "I can't eat your food... What will you eat?" He knew it was stupid, and Todd saw through it in seconds.

"I got one right here, mate. I know it don't look good... but if whatever happened back at the castle was all that bad, you aint gettn' fresh bacon and eggs for a while. "m not gonna have you starve here. The body would be impossible to get out. Eat it while its hot, its worse cold." Todd said grimly, taking another bite of his own sandwich and grimacing. Kurt lifted the sandwich to his mouth slowly and took a bite.

It was horrible. Kurt had to admit though, it wasn't AS horrible as he thought it would be. Kurt made a face as he tasted the meat... It didn't taste any more normal than it looked. "Mph. Wot mph-." Kurt swallowed the bite in his mouth before trying to speak again. "Vas meat ist das?" He asked, taking another bite. Todd turned a light shade of pink. "Swallow that bite first." He said, playing in the dirt with one shoe.

Kurt choked the bite down and opened his mouth to Todd, showing him the emptiness within. Todd smirked and said slyly "Its cat, mate." Expecting this to hit some kind of 'gross-out' switch that would drive Kurt stared at the sandwich for a long pause. "This is ze finest cooked cat I have ever had." He said nodding his head in approval. "Yer just say'n that." Todd waved his hand at Kurt playfully, smiling... Thinking it was a joke. "Nu! Really! When I lived in ze church I had cat many times. Zes ist gud cat!" Kurt insisted, his accent thickening with his memories.

Todd looked up in surprise. Shocked to find out the compliment was genuine and that he was not being mocked. He then turned a deep shade of red, and mumbled his gratitude. Kurt smiled, Todd had a nice smile. It as true that hen Kurt had been living in the rafters of an old Catholic church he had snatched many cats to roast up for a meaty dinner. It wasn't by choice, but for survival. In some countries it was slightly more normal to cook things that others considered pets, but this meal as because the other option was starvation.

Kurt finished the last bit of the strange sandwich and looked at Todd expectantly,as though something important was suppose to be done. Todd snapped out a sharp "Whattr YOU lookin at?" and Kurt quickly found himself observing the room they were in. The basement was poorly lit, and most of the light and heat came from the fire. The room had a chill about it that made Kurt wish his fur was longer even now in the late summer. As though the chill came from specters that lurked in the walls, and not a natural source.

Kurt rubbed his arms absently to warm himself, and started slightly when a blanket appeared around his shoulders. He looked up to find Todd's back facing him as the other boy tended the dimming himself up in the manky old blanket, Kurt took another look around the room, his eyes adjusting in the the far side of the room there were stairs tracing their way to the ceiling. The stairs to the next floor up looked like they should have given up supporting weight years ago, and by some structural miracle were still standing. Below the stairs there was a door. A door? Kurt opened his mouth and inhaled sharply, looking at Todd to ask about the mysterious door.

Todd had been following his gaze before and answered him before he could ask, shaking his head as he spoke. "Dunno. The Witch goes down there sometimes. I never see her come back up. That's where the cold comes from." Kurt thought about it, and now from Todd's mention, he could feel that was indeed where the cold came from. However... Something in his tone didn't ring true about Todd not knowing what lay beyond the door. It was to husky... to sharp.


	10. Carve Me Into Beauty

Kurt suspected that even if Todd did know, he would never tell another soul so long as he was still breathing. Kurt went back to looking about the room. To the right from the fire there was a water spigot sticking out of the wall, two buckets and a drain. One of the buckets had a cloth hanging out of it. A shiver ran down Kurt's spine. He had a feeling the bucket with the cloth was for bathing, and other bucket was for excrement.

He highly doubted the spigot brought in warm water. It was no wonder now why Todd usually went to school unwashed. Kurt would stop bathing as well if that as his only option. Heck, back in the mansion he sometimes barely made it to the shower. Not only that, his showers were steaming hot and he was provided with ample amounts of time and shampoo for his fur. He would even walk out of the shower to find a clean fluffy towel waiting to embrace his furry body, and a hairdryer beside!

Kurt suddenly felt ashamed of himself for looking down on Todd the way he had in the past for being unwashed. He had never really considered the other boys living conditions. Kurt finished his look around the room, to horrified at his own past actions to look Todd in the eye. The most peculiar thing in the room was what sat against the wall to the left of the fire. It was a large dresser, stretching longways with a vanity mirror towering over it.

Kurt was taken aback that he had not noticed it sooner. There were lights above the mirror that looked like they had not been used in a very long time. Todd still coddled the fire, coaxing it into vibrant life. Kurt stood on shaking exhausted legs and moved toward the vanity mirror. He had a two fingered hand on the handle of one of the drawers, ready to slide it open, curious about the continents. "Don't touch that!" Todd shouted in a whispering voice, lunging toward Kurt to stay his hand.

Todd had quieted his voice to keep from drawing attention from upstairs... but the metal poker he had dropped in his rush had not. It hit the ground with a deafening clang, the echo resounding on the walls. "No..." He whispered, his eyes wide in terror. "No, no, no..." Todd grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and steered him to the corner between the fire and the vanity, thrusting him don onto the ground and pulling the blanket over him.

"Don't make a sound, don't move an inch, don't look out from under the blanket... you know what, don't breath. Don't even breath." Todd's voice was stern and his eyes serious, though they were watering with fear. "Promise me?" Todd asked, his nose inched from Kurt's. "Promise me you won't even breath?" His voice so hushed, Kurt could barely hear it, though it was mere inches from him. "I promise." Kurt said, his eyes pleading for Todd to see their sincerity.

Todd blinked, a reassuring smile flickered at the corners of his mouth for a fraction of a second, and the world went dark. Todd had flung the blanket over Kurt's head. Not quite perfectly though. One eye peered out of a hole in the blanket, he was a yellow flicker in a shadowed corner of the room. Kurt could see most of the room through that slit in the blanket, and he watched light spill down the stairs as the door to the house above opened.

"Yawake down there Toad?" The voice bellowed with malice, Kurt couldn't tell who the speaker was. Todd looked up at the door, not moving, not responding. A defiant stare was enough of an answer. "Got company." growled the voice. Kurt almost gasped, thinking the voice had seen him. Kurt looked at Todd expecting to see the boy waving for him to flee... Todd was only looking down at the ground, who ever this visitor was he had been expecting it.

"Gocha sumfing new for the occasion kid." A paper wrapped package was thrown to the ground at Todd's feet, and the soft sound it made let Kurt know it was light. The door slammed shut without a goodbye, and Todd knelt to pick up the package. As Todd set the package on the vanity, Kurt snapped his eyes shut and pretended he had seen nothing. "Do NOT move, until I come back and tell ya to." Todd hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Kurt looked through the hole again to see Todd crossing to the side of the room with the buckets, and turned on the tap to fill the one with the cloth. As it filled, Todd stripped off his grimy clothing, his pale body terrifyingly thin in the dim light. When the bucket splashed mostly full he dumped it over his head and set the bucket back under the running water to fill as he scrubbed himself. Picking up a bar of soap that had been hidden behind the bucket and added it to his scrubbing.

For a time he alternated pouring water on himself and scrubbing with the soap and cloth, letting the bucket refill as he did so. Kurt was surprised by how long Todd had continued scouring his skin. The other boy seemed to be ensuring that every pour on his body was immaculate. By the time Todd had finally transitioned to only pouring buckets of clear water over himself, the room smelled thickly of flowers. Cold dead flowers... but still flowers.

Soaking wet and shaking Todd moved to stand in front of the vanity, pulling open a drawer without looking down to see which one it was. Kurt could count his ribs and see every bony joint in the other boys body as Todd pulled out a fluffy white towel. The towel was eerily perfect, its downy whiteness bringing out the tinge of green in Todd's pale skin as he patted himself dry.

Todd hung the towel on a hook by the mirror that looked as though it had been put there for that sole purpose. Again with practiced ease, Todd slid out the next drawer he needed without looking down. It was a blow dryer, and he used it to tousle the last bit of water out of his short clean hair. Next, he flicked the light on. Kurt flinched as the bright lights above the mirror flashed into brilliance.

When he had adjusted to the stinging in his corneas, Kurt stifled a gasp as the white light illuminated Todd's emaciated body. It was far more than his ribs and joints that could be seen. Suddenly Kurt felt sick for accepting half of the other boys dinner. Todd opened the next drawer and pulled out a box, opening the box slowly with a grim sigh. Kurt as speechless in his silence when Todd pulled out a jar of powder foundation and a giant puffball.

As Todd dusted his skin, the green sickly shade of his skin disappearing. Todd didn't stop at his jaw or neck. Under a layer of falsified health, and glowing skin that was not his own spread down the length of his body. Before he was able to pat his legs down, Kurt noticed for the first time long deep grayish scars that split across the boys thighs. Kurt had seen scars like that before on some of the more damaged children at the mansion. These scars were not made by a fight, or an enemy... but by Todd's own hands.

The scars were soon dusted away by the fake healthy skin. As Kurt looked closer he could see the scars vanishing in many more places than Todd's thighs. They were being dusted away from his wrists, his back, his sides... Kurt's stomach turned as the scars became uncountable... and invisible.


	11. Paint My Skin Back On

When he was completely coated in a 'healthy' shade of skin, Todd took out in turn a black pencil, deep green eye shadow, cherry red lipstick, and rose tinted blush. When the handle of the brush he used to apply a pink hue to his cheeks, Todd looked more like a geisha than a boy in his teens. True to the thick make up, Todd finally opened the paper bag and withdrew from it a lacy girls dress. The dress was a lighter shade of green, but still matching the eye shadow in an unnerving way. Todd slipped the dress on, and Kurt noticed that the other boys legs didn't have a trace of body hair on them. It was impossible to tell if it was natural or not.

Kurt only realized his mouth had been hanging open when it had become to dry for him to close it easily. Todd was tucking his hair into a manicured style, clipping in a green flower. Kurt's heart suffered a crushing blow as he noted that Todd's mouth had not changed from a small frown of anguish and desperation since the voice had first been heard from the top of the stair. Todd pulled out a toothbrush, put a large amount of toothpaste on it, and went to the spigot to wet it. Kurt bit the inside of his cheek in horror as Todd scoured his mouth until the water he rinsed with ran red with blood. A couple swishes of fresh water, and the mouthfuls he spat ran clear again.

In all of this, Kurt noticed that he had managed not to mus his makeup in the slightest. Todd most be forced to go through this routine regularly. The other boy now took a deep shuddering breath and forced a shining fake smile, pain now only visible in his eyes where an unspoken scream could not be silenced. Todd glanced at the wadded blankets on the floor and his smile faltered as he caught the glint of yellow from Kurt's watching eyes. Tears began to well, but the smile was back to perfection in less than a second. The other boy had no time to stop and explain, and instead he turned and walked upstairs with a practiced grace, pretending he had not noticed.

Kurt was alone now. Alone in an ocean of despair. He had run from the heartbreak Logan had caused, but compared to the last day and a half... Trying to compare the two was like measuring a whale with a minnow. Logan had not loved him, but had never wished him harm. Kurt could no longer hold any anger toward Logan... It had been wrong of him to expect love from a single night of judgement forgotten. That was if Logan even COULD love someone like that now.

Logan was cursed with an impossibly long life and would watch thousands of his friends fall before death claimed his soul. To ask someone in such a position to not distance themselves from others was a greater cruelty than Kurt would wish inflicted on is greatest enemy. He now sobbed at his thoughtless, heartless and childish reaction.

Now that he really looked back on the situation with a clear mind... Logan had even leapt from the window to save him, though both their powers were gone. It struck Kurt now for the first time that the fall may in fact have killed Logan. The man had not been moving when Kurt had fled to the woods, and his healing factor was still severely damaged.

Logan must have known this when he leapt, Kurt thought to himself. Logan was willing to forfeit possible centuries of life and helping people to see Kurt waste the rest of his pathetic existence doing who knows what. Kurt was, by now, chewing on his own three fingered hand to keep the shrieks of revelation at bay. The skin was long since dried out thanks to his saliva, and he could taste flecks of blood as his fangs clipped his skin.

He tentatively let his thoughts wander to what could be happening to Todd this very moment and shook at the horrors that cascaded into his mind. Todd was not only forced to endure, but to prepare himself for the awful things that were now going on upstairs. Gasping and coughing through steady tears for what seemed like hours, weariness finally caught up with Kurt and he fell into a fitful sleep.

Nightmares took advantage of the dark thoughts that had been swimming through Kurt's mind as he was trapped in his own prison of unconsciousness. He opened his mouth to scream and only silence came from his mouth. Things crept about him, but he felt unable to move away. Memories now warped by terrible thoughts made themselves more real to him than seemed possible... Until he was granted freedom.

There was a thumping at the top of the stairs that first stirred Kurt from the darkness, then a loud crashing sound mingled with shouting. "-SHOULD BE GLAD-" Portions of the shouting audible, others drowned out by sounds of a struggle. "-LEAST I AINT PUT A END TA YER WORTHLESS LIFE." Lout scraping, thudding and a bang like a loud piece of furniture being dropped.


	12. Just For Tonight

Kurt recognized the voice now as Sabertooth. "SHOULDA BE GRATEFUL-" A scream echoed, but was silenced to quickly. "Just drop 'im man! 'Snot worth it!" It was the sound of Avalanche's voice, someone to the rescue. More shouting, a whimper, a bellowing yell. Then stomping that made its way out of the house.

The door finally spilled light into the basement and Kurt could hear Todd gasping an whimpering in pain, all the while whispering his hurried thanks to Lance. Kurt could see Lance pulling Todd down the stairs with little more grace than a man punishing a dog. "Least yur still alive." He grumbled through Todd's soft words of gratitude.

Lance dropped Todd harshly on the floor. Not with disdain, but with a lack of caring. Todd was huddled on the floor, shaking and crying. There was blood around, but it was hard to tell the main source through the many cuts now visible on Todd's marred skin. Fewer scars than Kurt had previously thought were purposeful.

Lance turned on the spigot in the corner and filled the bucket. Todd's makeup had turned into smudged black circles around his eyes, the foundation patchy and his lipstick smeared. His hair only hours ago preened to perfection was messed and plastered to his skull in patchy sickening ways. A bit of the destroyed hair even seemed to be torn out. The green dress was shredded to rags as though it had been made of news paper, and sections of it were stained.

When the bucked was full Lance dropped the bar of soap on Todd's curled up form and splashed the water onto the boy's shaking body. Todd did his best to scrub away the worst of the blood in the wetness, unable to stand. This was repeated several times until the makeup was only streaks and the only blood present was that still leaking from his wounds. Through the entire exchange Todd was still whispering thank you's, smiling softly just before every bucket was dumped on him.

Lance softened slightly as some of the mess was washed down the drain, but never smiled back. Finally he retrieved the towel Todd had left hanging carefully on the vanity and threw it on the shaking body. "Yer useless ya know that?" Lance said softly, siting down on the lowest stair. Todd murmured many things as he patted himself with the towel, but the only audible one was "You're so kind to me..." It made Kurt's stomach flip. This was kindness?

Lance hung his head, and stood. He bent down and took the towel Todd held up to him and turned to walk up the stairs, pausing to mutter over his shoulder. "Ya shoulda left ages ago kid." He waited only long enough to hear Todd's whispered reply of "Where would I go?" Then snapped "Anywhere. Anywhere but here." Over his shoulder... and was gone.

Todd was choking and sobbing again, trying not to be any louder than a whisper. Kurt couldn't take any more of it, and pushed himself to his feet. He scooped Todd's light body up in his arms and brought him to toe blanket wadded up on the floor, wrapping the other boy carefully. Kurt fixed up the fire and then sat on the floor by the pile of cloth and tattered body.

"You should go." Todd whispered into the blanket. Kurt looked at him surprised. "And leave you? I vill not." He stated firmly. "I vill stay vish you, until you leave with me or one of us es dead." Kurt growled, seething with fury at what he had not even tried to prevent. "No you won't." Todd half laughed, but he winced at the pain it caused. Kurt looked at him with wide powerful eyes. "I vill. Zer is no ozer vay." His accent was tick with his anger.

Todd smiled softly and whispered carefully "You would wouldn't you... Why?" Kurt nodded solidly and said under his breath. "Some sings are more important." He growled turning his gaze to the stairs, speaking more to himself than to Todd. Todd shook his head slowly, giving a soft laugh. "Will you-" Todd hesitated in embarrassment, but Kurt gave him to expectant a look. "Will you sleep here with me. Just for one night... To keep me warm I mean." Todd tossed in the last bit, a blush creeping onto his dangerously pale cheeks.

"For as many nights as vee breath." Kurt said in a deep voice that brought tears to Todd's eyes. Kurt crawled into the blankets behind Todd and wrapped his arms around the other boy's middle, curling around his body. Todd's skin was as cold as ice, and chilled to the bone. It didn't seem possible for him to be that cold and still alive. It took a while, but finally Todd was a proper temperature again.

Kurt shifted slightly and Todd murmured something as he fell back into a deep sleep "Just for tonight" He said so softly that Kurt almost didn't hear it. What was that suppose to mean? Kurt certainly would never abandon him. But the words seemed ominous.


	13. Stained

Something stirred Kurt slightly in his slumber, but he looked up only to see Todd moving at the vanity. The other boy smiled and whispered "Go back to sleep." at his watching eyes, and it was as though Kurt had been hypnotized. Without a second thought, he was asleep again.

Kurt awoke to something cold pressing against his chest. For a moment he pushed it was surprised to realize it was Todd. Todd's skin was cold as ice, and the fire had gone out. Kurt rubbed Todd's arm to bring some of the warmth back into it. The other boy must have only now come to bed after writing. Why hadn't he fixed the fire? Kurt murmured soothing words into Todd's ear, attempting to stir him into consciousness in the most soothing way possible. Todd must have been up very late to still be out cold.

When Todd still did not wake Kurt ruffled the other boys hair and moved to get up. There was a bit of cloth paper grasped tightly in Todd's hand and an unwashed quill next to his other open hand, it had dark brown ink coating its tip and spotted on the feather. Kurt gave a short quiet laugh. He now knew a total of ONE person that wrote with a quill, Todd's eclectic taste was intriguing. Kurt reached around the boy to pick up the quill, wondering where Todd had gotten brown ink. There wasn't a store for miles that sold bottled ink. Todd seemed positively rigged, and Kurt stopped to brush the boys hair out of his eyes. Todd was far to tense to be as asleep as he was pretending.

Kurt's swallowed a scream. Todd's eyes were clouded white, a slight smile frozen into his unmoving pale skin. Kurt realized now that the room was in fact cold, but not half as cold as Todd's skin. Kurt pressed a finger to Todd's throat, begging for a pulse to be there. Todd's milky white eyes stared back at him, and time its self seemed to twist into knots at the unwavering gaze. There was no pulse to be found. Kurt scuttled in front of the boy and tried to push him onto his back so that he could attempt CPR, as he had been taught in class.

Kurt couldn't even get the boy's hand to let go of the paper, Todd was in full rigor mortis. Kurt tried to scream now, but only air whispered out of his lungs. He would have thrown up, but there as nothing in his stomach to rid it of. Kurt moved to stand, but his pajama bottoms were stuck to the floor at his knees where he had been kneeling. He lifted one knee and it made a squelching noise, the same brown ink from the pen was surrounding him in a sticky pool.

Kurt turned his palms toward himself and stared at them, terror raking his soul. His hands were spotted and striped with a thick red wetness that rested under the brown sticky layer is was kneeling on. Kurt was in a full panic now, aware that he was kneeling in a wide pool of Todd's blood. Kurt looked to the blood spattered quill and the wadded up cloth paper in Todd's lifeless hand. Whatever was on the bit of paper was the last thing Todd had, and would ever write. Kurt wrenched the paper out of Todd's grasp, and nearly had to break the boys fingers to get it.

The paper had two lines on it in brown splattered writing. The first in bold, wide lettering read "Somethings are more important." It made Kurt physically ill to read the line. The second was written small and carefully, trailing off at the end. "In the bottom left drawer under my...-" That as it. There was an illegible smear, and the rest of the corner was drenched in brown coagulating blood. Kurt crammed the letter in his pajama bottoms pocket, taking the quill for good measure. Kurt couldn't bring himself to look at Todd again before he ran to the vanity, sliding open the directed drawer.

Kurt flung things out at random, unsure of what he was even looking for. His eyes blurred, and Kurt rubbed his face to clear away the tears. His cheeks were soaked and he assumed he had been crying unconsciously for a very long time. Finally he drew out a hand-crafted worn book that matched the quill and cloth paper. The book had a thick leather binding and a large four leaf clover carved into its front. Todd had somehow made these items himself and hidden them so that no one else would find them. Kurt cradled the book, noticing traces of blood on it in all different stages of aging. Todd's scars were what had provided him with the ink to write whatever was in the book.

Kurt ran back to Todd's body and flung himself to his knees in the pool of blood, his eyes clouding with tears again. "What do I do? What am I suppose to do no?" He whispered anxiously, as though he expected Todd to jump back to life to answer him. Kurt hastily threw open the book to the last page that was written on, the one with blood the same shade as the pool he now sat in. The page's cryptic message read as follows...

"Forgive me this blood stained memory, as I write my life pours from my wrists. You read and you know me, you live on you carry me with you. I scream into the darkness, no one hears me. Blood thick, memory solid. Hate is my reality, fear my ever companion. Lust the only open arms in my hell... my life. Shifting and swaying is solitude. Isolation is prison and peace. Your eyes bright as the starstruck sky, my dear friend I envy. Those glittering the things I desire, by design they never have me. Love falls as often as snow, I live in the barren desert. Not even rain enough to cool my cheek under the sun. Hunger welcomes me as the cold in dead of winter, its grasping fingers clinging tight. Forgive me, I've left you. Forgive me, I love. Forgive me... I have by you been granted peace."

Kurt whispered through the poem of the dying boy... and some how knew what to do next. He needed to move on. To carry this book to the happiness it never received in life. In this book Todd had written his soul, and if nothing else... Kurt would save that from this place. Kurt reached one hand out and closed Todd's eyelids, murmuring a soft prayer for him. Kurt then closed his eyes tight and begged his powers to work for just a second. Even if he would never teleport again, he needed to right now, just this once.

He opened his eyes and found himself miraculously outside. Without a thought as to how it had happened, Kurt screamed a silent thank you to God who had listened and answered his prayers. Then he ran. Kurt ran and ran, finding the most direct route possible to the mansion. When he finally reached the grassy field here Logan had hit the ground he collapsed panting, still clutching the book to his chest. Then the world went black.


	14. Kurt's Slumber

There was no one looking for him, not even a search party trying to find his body. Only one person missed him enough to regularly stand in the grass where the imprint of Logan's body dented the ground. It was not Logan, for he would not awake for another two weeks at least. In a matter of three days Kurt had come to care for a broken boy, only to have him die in his arms.

Todd had taken his own life, and had explained why in the book with the four leaf clover... On the page before the one Kurt had read. Kurt would not read the page that explained everything for at least seven more days, and he would spend then next five unconscious. For now, the person that had come six times a day to wait for his return now ran to Kurt's crumpled body.

Tears streamed down her face, as they had many of the times she had come to wait for him. She had never expressed any interest in Kurt, giving him at most a snort and an insult when he spoke to her. But for now, he was unconscious and they were alone. She could feel his chilled skin through the thin filthy and blood soaked pajama's he wore. Without hesitation she tore off her coat and wrapped him in it as best as she could. She briefly whispered the as many of the words she had withheld as she could bare and moved her arms under him to lift him up. Shouting for help would take too long.

Thanks to her X-training she was strong enough to lift him off of the ground, his book cradled in his lap. His body seemed much lighter than it usually was in their training courses. He must not have eaten for the entire week he was missing. She ignored the mess her eyeliner had made, and stormed into the mansion a look of ever increasing fury on her face. She wished for nothing more than to scream at whoever had decided there would be no search party.

Instead of seeking out the perpetrator as she desired, she ran head long to the infirmary. Staring eyes collected behind her as she ran. She stopped in the doorway of the infirmary and fell to her knees, Kurt's bloodstained body limp in her arms. In what felt like seconds Kurt had been stripped, was laying on a hospital bed, and receiving a full check over by anyone in the mansion with a medical degree.

Jean's fingers were at her temples in her pretentious focusing manner as she used her telepathy to search for broken bones. Dr. McCoy was picking through his blood soaked fur for injuries like quite a bit like a gorilla looking for lice. Storm was in the room moving about medical equipment, and a few students were moving things about according to her directions.

The girl that had brought him in sat in a waiting chair, her knees drawn to her chest. She was rocking herself unconsciously and wiping away the tears that left black makeup stains on everything they touched. Professor X finally rolled himself in and sat in his wheelchair his fingers steepled in pensive thought. He asked her a few questions, and she answered automatically in a daze. Kurt's book had been set in her lap and she stroked the clover on its face soothingly.

Kurt had a badly sprained and untreated ankle, probably from his original fall. Aside from his severe dehydration and malnourished state, he was physically fine. His fur was cleaned carefully by Dr. McCoy who knew first hand how much it would hurt if the fur was accidentally pulled, then he was swept under a blanket and left to rest with what seemed like a dozen tubs stuck in his arms. Through everything, they had not been able to pry the wadded bloodied cloth from his tightly clenched fist.

The room finally began to clear out to let Kurt rest, and Dr. McCoy was thoughtful enough to slide a chair to his bedside and beckon her to come sit in it beside him. His kindness caused her to smile slightly, people usually weren't that nice to her. She sat cautiously in the chair and wept silently, her shaking shoulders the only identifier of her sheltered tears.

Professor X rolled his wheelchair closer and stretched his arms out to Kurt's head. A blade seemed to materialize in her hand coming within an inch of his hands. "Move 'em or loose 'em." She growled without lifting her head. The professor gave her a kind smile and replied "I was only going to-" The girl cut him off. "I know what you were GONNA do. You were gonna see what happened to 'im. If ya wanted to know that ya shoulda found 'im sooner. Now, you can wait till he wakes up so he can tell ya himself."

The professor gave her a surprised stare, it was rare for long time students to question his actions. "What if-" Again she ended his sentence. "If he don't wanna tell ya? Then at's his business aint it. Na git atta here." She waved her hand at him as though she were sweeping him out the door with it. The professor nodded, and turned his chair around to roll away. Over his shoulder he politely said "Treat him well." and in a few turns of his wheels she was completely alone with the sleeping blue elf.

She gave the blue boy a lingering brokenhearted stare, and began weeping once again. Her head down on his bedside, holding his limp hand through the blanket. For the first day she did nothing but cry, and watch him sleep. The second day she paced about the room, refusing to attend her lessons until he was well. Another bed had to be rolled closer to his bed for her to sleep in when she was tired, as she refused to go to her room for anything more than a shower. The book sat in her place at Kurt's side. She refused to open it or let anyone else touch it. Whatever it was, it was important and personal.

The third day she resigned herself to sitting in the chair again, stroking the face of the book. Half way through the day Dr. McCoy had brought her one of his Shakespearean novels to pass the time. He started bringing her lunch as well, as she had refused to go to the kitchen herself. The fourth day Dr. McCoy stared at her until she finally gave him a glowering "Waddayawant?" He smiled slightly and asked her in honest curiosity "Why do you stay at his bedside? You know we would call you if he woke." She softened slightly at his words.

It took her a few downcast minutes to reply. "Yall don't know what its like... Wake'n up in a hospital all alone. Don't want him to be 'lone I guess." She said to Kurt's blankets. Dr. McCoy Tilted his head and said in a low soothing voice "There's more to it than that, is there not?" He sounded like he was trying to calm a bucking horse... but it worked. "Doncha get it? He's all alone. Sides me, no one comes to visit him. Only nurses and yerself. Professor X got us to come here cuz we'd be welcome. Look how welcome he is. He aint even got flowers." As she spoke she stood and her eyes teared up. She gestured to the bedside table that held only his clover book and a clock. "Not even a bloody card."

Hank's eyes widened in shock. She was right. No one had even dropped by to check anything more than his heartbeat. Not a single person except this girl. His brow lowered into a ferocious glare. Six beds over and surrounded by a curtain and half a dozen flower wreaths, a card from every person in the mansion, and countless wrapped gifts... lay Logan. There was even a pack of beer waiting for him! Her eyes looked at him with worried and anger "Sumthin I said bother you?" She snapped.

"Only that you are correct." He growled. He would have words with Professor X on the matter this evening. The next morning confused wide eyed students and teachers alike arrived with flowers and get well gifts. They couldn't quite recall why they had all suddenly decided to bring said items, but in silence they arranged the tributes around the girl and Kurt. They were barely in time as Kurt began to stir just after evening. The last confused student laying a bouquet of sunflowers at the foot of his bed, shaking his head as though he was coming out from under a spell. Anyone who thought back on the situation later felt only ashamed that they had not cared about Kurt's well being sooner.


	15. Clover

First a moan escaped Kurt lips, sending the sunflower student scuttling away. Then his ear twitched, his tail flicked. His eyes fluttered open and glanced around the room. Flowers and gifts surrounded him. Even a balloon sporting the words "Get Well Soon" emblazoned on its metallic skin. There was a girl sitting in a chair next to his white blanket. She was laying her head on the bed facing away from him, her arms folded under her head. Kurt reached out to touch one of the loose brown curls, he wanted to be sure she was real. Somehow a hallucination didn't seem impossible right now.

The girl jerked her head up and looked at him with huge shocked eyes. Instantly she was smoothing her hair down and attempting to regain her composure, quite flustered at his watching yellow eyes. His gaze let her know he hadn't recognized her, he wouldn't stare so if he knew who he was speaking to. "M'rning." She mumbled, her hair refusing to stay back. Kurt looked around at the bright flashing colors that surrounded him, unable to focus on the bright things. "Am I dreaming?" Kurt asked, he couldn't think of another reason why he would be in a soft bed surrounded by colors, with a girl he didn't know fidgeting clumsily with her hair next to him. Maybe he did know, but his eyes were to blurry with sleep to tell.

"Nah. Just woke up actually." The girl said, smudging black stripes across her face. It was a helpless attempt to fixing the tear stained makeup she had reapplied only that morning. Kurt tried to look around again, but found his eyes locked on the deep fuzzy orbs that took the place of her eyes. The blurriness made her look like an angel clothed in solid black. He had seen her before, things were starting to slide into focus... Then with a jolt he realized who he was speaking to. "ROGUE?!" He half shouted, pulling his blanket up to cover his bare chest.

Rogue instantly threw her eyes to the ground, tears welling up again. She had no idea how her body kept producing them at this point. "Yeah blue boy? Ah should probly be on mah way." She turned to look for an exit through the sea of flowers and balloons. "Vait." Kurt said, and she stopped. She didn't turn back to face him, but she stopped."Yeah blue boy?" She was trying to be sarcastic and mean, but her voice shook. Kurt stared at her back, her shoulders were shaking slightly. "Ya want sumthin or not... Ah can get ya sumthin from the kitchen if ya don't wanna stand." Her voice was softer, and she was holding her breath between sentences to calm the tears.

"Stay?" Kurt said in a soft hopeful voice. It was more than a request, it was a plea. Rogue's body trembled defiantly as she coaxed herself back into the seat. She had pulled her hair over her face when rubbing the makeup away had failed, and her tears had begun to flow again."Vy are you here?" Kurt whispered, gesturing for her to move her chair closer to him. Tentatively she did, as she stumbled for an answer. "Well ah-... Ah mean you-... At is ta say..." Rogue bit her lip and attempted speech again after a few breaths. "Ah din't want ya wakin up alone ah guess..." Her eyes were locked on the white bed spread where her eyeliner had dripped off and left black smudges.

Kurt slipped a hand under the sheet that covered him, and through it grasped her hand. The sheet protecting him from her deadly skin. "Danke." He said fervently. Rogue's face went from pale as death to bright pink in seconds. Kurt tilted his head and looked at her confused, pulling his hand back. Rogue's hands went to the hood of the jacket she was wearing, trying to pull it up to cover her face. Her tears now filled with hatred for herself, how could she have been so stupid. The last think he wanted to see was the creepy angry girl that everyone hated. "Vait!" Kurt said, as she moved to dash off.

Again, she paused, awaiting his next command. Kurt fumbled around for words, anything to make her stay. More than anything he didn't want to be alone right now. "Vere ist mien book?" He asked, looking through the sea colors for the washed out reddish brown leather. Rogue pushed some things off of the end table and pulled the journal out from under the brightly wrapped packages. "Ah wouldn't let them read it." Rogue handed the book to him. Kurt pulled his other hand out from under the blanket, the cloth paper locked tight in it. He actually had to use his free hand to pry his stiff fingers open.

When the cloth was free Kurt stared at his hand. It looked like it had three blue hooks instead of two fingers and a thumb, his hadn't had not moved in a terrifyingly long time. "How long vas I out?" Kurt asked, trying to flex his fingers, flinching at small sparks of pain that flashed through his unused nerves. Rogue wrapped her hands in a medical pillow case that had been set to the side just in case. She cupped her hands together and held them out to Kurt's stiff hand. Slowly Kurt put his hand into her's and she began massaging the life back into it.

Kurt relaxed into the massage for a long time, enjoying the way it felt to have his muscles moved by someone else. Unconsciously he even began purring, his tail swishing back and forth with happiness. When Kurt's hand was functioning again he flexed his fingers in testing, gave Rogue a 'Danke' filled with gratitude, and turned his attention to the book. With his better hand Kurt opened his book and stared at the first page. The words looked like fuzzy brownish red stripes streaking across the page. He couldn't bring his eyes to focus on them.

Frustrated, Kurt closed the book and glared at the cover. "Sumthin wrong?" Rogue asked, Kurt didn't seem conscious of her watching him. "Mien eyes. They won't focus, and I want to read. Zis book ist very important to me..." Kurt said, the end of his sentence trailing off as he stared at the entrancing clover on the books cover. Tears sparked in his eyes and he couldn't tell if they were sorrow, fury, or something else entirely. Rogue opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. If the book was really that important, certainly it wasn't something he wanted her reading out loud.

"How long vas I asleep?" Kurt asked suddenly, jolting Rogue from the melancholic place in her mind. "Five days." Rogue responded automatically. "Ah... Ah mean... Ah think it was about five days... Yeah, at sounds about right." Rogue's cheeks were pink again, and Kurt was once again giving her that curious stare. "Und how long have you been here by my bed?" Kurt asked, turning Rogue's face crimson. "... Ah bout... five days..." She whispered very softly, now feeling ashamed. She would hate to find out someone had been watching her sleep for five days.

Kurt tilted his hear from side to side as though he was trying to figure her out. "Did you let anyone else read et?" Kurt asked slowly. Rogue shook her head. "Nah, Ah wouldn't even let Professor X touch it. Its yours, not his." She responded, looking at the book. After a very long silence in which Rogue shifted uncomfortably many times, Kurt finally pushed the book toward her and asked in a small voice. "Vill you read et to me?" Rogue looked up in shock. Her mouth hung open for a minute as she stared at him, trying to figure out how serious it was.

Kurt was usually constantly joking, but this request had a level of gravity to it that Rogue couldn't explain. Finally she slid the book closed to herself and turned it to the first page "My name is Todd, and this is a story from the side of the world good people choose to ignore..." She hadn't gotten past the first line when a nurse suddenly bustled in and Rogue snapped the book shut. She smiled at the nurse and looked at Kurt in confusion. This was Todd's book? Tears bristled in Kurt's eyes and he gave her a look that made her feel certain that her soul had shattered.

"Oh lookie who's awake! I'll just popover to check on Logan and be back in a jiffy!" The jovial nurse bounced past them to the closed curtain a ways down. Kurt's mouth fell open and he gawked at the nurse like she had come from another planet. "Logan es here? Es he sick again?" Kurt asked when he had regained his wits. Rogue shook her head and Kurt stared at her, awaiting an answer. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she actually began speaking. "When Logan fell... He was hurt. Really badly... He had the chill. His healing factor 'asnt really started working again yet." Rogue's eyes were confused, her words slow and careful. She had the sudden feeling that the professors story about Logan trying to hang his own cable antenna wasn't exactly true.

Before either of them could say anything more, the excitable nurse was back and she was paging the professor. Rogue wrapped her arms around the book and Kurt nodded at her, agreeing with this action. Swiftly he handed her the folded bloody cloth paper and she tucked it into the book. In minutes the room was swarming with people interested in what had happened to Kurt. The story the professor had evidently told was that before Logan had 'fallen while trying to hook up cable', Kurt had gotten bored and went looking for something to do. It was eerie how everyone in the room ignored that Kurt had come back in his pajama's, soaked in blood, and emaciated. Then unconscious for five days. Kurt nodded dumbly in agreement to whatever they said and was soon rushed of for testing to be sure he was in good health.


	16. Some Things Are More Important

Kurt read through Todd's book. Lingering on the pages that tore him open most. One of the later pages still had a dull reddish glow to the brown lettering, the blood still aging on the page. This page was written to him. Kurt read the page slowly once more.

...

There's always someone that cares more than you think they do.

There's always someone that cares less than you want them to.

There's always an answer to the question you never wanted to ask.

There's always a question for the answer you thought was certain.

I open my veins and bleed on these pages

Do not follow my pace and keep your soul till your death

Somethings are more important than the secrets you thought you had

Some people more important than than those things

If you thing your not important, you disgrace those who think you are

If you think you are important, you don't deserve the people who value you

As these veins run dry... stop pretending and live.

Stop thinking and do.

Stop reading and find that person that cared

The one you never noticed before.

Take their hand and never let it go.

If you cant find them... care about something.

The moment you care, the moment you live...

Is the moment you first breath

Do something that makes you worthy.

Love something.

Love someone.

That's how I met you.

...

It was the page after that made Kurt twist inside. The page that followed was Todd's explanation... In thick jagged letters it made his blood run cold.

...

Dear Kurt,

If you are reading this, I am already dead. You gave me the one thing I never had the courage to ask for from life. Happiness. I knew you would stay with me. I never questioned that. Thank you. I have felt more alive in the past week than I ever have before, but I will not condemn you to my life sentence. I could not go to the mansion with you on the exact same principal that I know it is where you will go next. This is my home. That is yours. I know whatever you left there was horrible, and the look in your eyes tells me it is not as horrible as what you have seen this week. You will be able to go home. They will welcome you. They may never say it as such, but they will love you. They all do. I can see in everything they do that they love you. Any one of them would lay down their life for you... As will I.

Some things are more important,

Todd

...

Kurt had read the letter dozens of times, its words not sinking in the first run through. Every time he read it, new parts ripped his soul open. He knew somehow, that it would feel that way forever. He would treasure these words always, and if he ever wrote a will he would ask to be buried with this page on his chest.

It took Kurt a few weeks to recover, but when he did he begged Logan's forgiveness. Logan did end up becoming a mentor to him, and after that horrible month they spent many nights, weekends and summers living off the land while Logan filled Kurt with knowledge that would have taken him a lifetime to find on his own.

Kurt asked Rogue out, and she turned him down... but after weeks of persisting (which Kurt is a master at) she finally allowed a single date. That single date turned into texts, late night phone calls, and nights spent on the rooftop talking. The very same rooftop Logan had taken Kurt to. Eventually Kurt told her everything about what had happened and they read the clover book on the rooftop together.

Every year to the day the two still return to the same rooftop to read the same book together on the anniversary of Todd's death. The anniversary of the boy that gave his life to save someone else's...

Because some things are more important.

The End


End file.
